just2day:


Thanks for the encouragement and kind words. We'll see how high I can fly

Be careful as not too fly close to the sun like Icarus

Come and drop something here, please

holarbolu:
Come and drop something here, please

Scene in the church will be introducing a couple important characters and set ups that will decide a lot of the story. I'm still indecisive as to some of the key elements concerning the characters. Apologies, I'll force a decision and drop chapter on Tuesday. Thanks

just2day:


Scene in the church will be introducing a couple important characters and set ups that will decide a lot of the story. I'm still indecisive as to some of the key elements concerning the characters. Apologies, I'll force a decision and drop chapter on Tuesday. Thanks

Then you gat me on the edge till then

Let Justice be Done though the heavens may fall

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 12

Ola adjusted his clothing in front of the still closed doors of the church. Behind him was a trail of fallen bodyguards, most unconscious while the rest wreathed in pain.

"No amount of adjusting will make you look any more presentable"

He ignored her as he continued to adjust till he was satisfied the hand gun he was concealing wasn't visible. Fingers ran through his wild hair, loosening knots.

"Two churches in a day, what a pain. Alright lets do this."

The double doors burst open, one falling to the floor raising a loud cloud of dust, Malaozi's booted foot the offending party. There wasn't a single soul within whose head did not turn at the sudden commotion. The dust floated and swirled, causing Ola and Malaozi to fade in and out. Everyone within the church struggled to see through the dust storm, some hands hovering over various hidden holsters.

Seconds ticked away, the dust settling revealing a beggar standing a step in front of an angel dressed in a burgundy jacket. The clouds cleared as if in deference to the man, the sun shining behind him, surrounding him with brilliance, causing those in the church to squint. The rays, freed from the blockade of the grey clouds, streamed through the stained glass of the church bathing the occupants in holy light. 

Looking around, Ola observed the splendor of this religious edifice. It was nothing like the simple nature of the church he had left behind in Osun. To his left and right stood gilded pillars stretching to the lofty rafters where vaults and pointed arches watched over ceiling paintings. Wooden pews, completely black in color with no discernible grain lined the church. Aged African Blackwood for pews... If that isn't extravagance I don't know what is. Though now padded, it bore its age well.

Ola strolled in much like he was taking a walk in his backyard during spring, hands behind his back, completely ignoring the piercing gaze of the crowd. Beneath his feet, polished marble echoed each step in the now silent church. At the end of the aisle was a closed casket. Above, a shocked priest watched from the pulpit, his jaw succumbing to gravity. No one moved till Ola was more than half way to the waiting coffin.

"Duhu!"

An expensively dressed man ran into the aisle with a roar. Malaozi, still keeping in step with Ola dashed forward to intercept. A fist lashed out, her target the mans trachea. It did not reach, a thin man appearing in front of Malaozi with an open palm, catching hers in mid flight.

"You!"

Malaozi's vision filled with red as she saw the thin scar running down his right cheek, her rational mind shutting down, an animalistic instinct taking over. In one fluid motion, a silver fast draw colt 45 appeared in her hand, pointed at the head of the man who had stopped her, thumb cocking back the hammer, trigger finger already squeezing.

"Malaozi stop! No killing here."

Ola's voice cut through the red fog filling her mind, driving back the monster that had been unleashed to the cage from whence it came. Her breathing was heavy, her gun disappearing with a struggle. In her eyes was murder, her lower lip bitten till her teeth drew blood. If looks could kill, the man who blocked her fist would be dead ten times over. Regaining a bit of clarity she could now feel, pressed against her stomach, the cold muzzle of a gun. Fury burned in her as she realized he had been faster.

"Don't call me Duhu. Call of your dog."

"It was your bitch who attacked first."

"She was trying to do you a favor. When a dog goes rabid, you put it down."

"I'd like to see her try."

"Is that so, alright then. Hey, aim your gun back at him."

"It never left, sir. No need for a rabid dog to have a litter"

Ola gave Malaozi a glance and noticed her gun had only switched targets. It was now pointing at the thin mans groin.

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

Yeah! You're the man... Oh, wait, I haven't been able to discern your gender... Are you a sort of mystery being?

next update

You write beautifully well...

holarbolu:
Yeah! You're the man... Oh, wait, I haven't been able to discern your gender... Are you a sort of mystery being?

Lol, yeah lets go with mystery being, it has a nice ring to it

AvatarMode:
You write beautifully well...

High praise. Really appreciate the kind remark and for taking the time to write them. Thanks a bunch

I draw breath so I may live long enough to dance on your grave

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 13

In the church, hushed whispers floated around, the name Duhu in every sentence. There were no shocked looks from those seated in the pews when the guns came out on this holy ground, in full view of the robed priest. They took it in stride, watching it unfold much like they were at a cinema. No one moved to stop the stalemate occurring in the aisle. 

"I see after all these years you still haven't been forgotten."

The expensively dressed man could hear the whispers, his finger bones cracking in displeasure, each one sporting a ring with a precious stone that could easily feed a modest family of four for a year like kings.

"Is that jealousy I hear Gaddo? It's not a good color on you."

"Why you little..."

"Stop!"

A soft alluring sound floated above the rest. Not a single red blooded male -- and a few of the fairer sex -- in the church could resist its pull. They all turned, wishing to see the beauty that possessed such a sultry voice that stirred them with one word. Their quest did not bear the fruit they expected. A dark veil held at bay their charged filled gazes denying them knowledge of her facial features; a wide brimmed hat hiding her hair. She floated into the aisle, making her way to where the four held their standoff. From the neck down she wore loose fitting black garb, every inch of her skin hidden from the hunger of those who watched. Still, it could not stop their imagination, the aura she exuded fueling their carnal minds. On her hands were thin dark gloves, a single ring riding on the smallest of her fingers. 

"Gaddo, tell your man to put away his gun."

"But it was Duhu whose bit..."

"Just do it please. Little brother, for me?"

Her voice dripped with honey, flowing as effortlessly as silk on smooth skin, melting away the tension, driving the men around her into a deeper spell. Namdi on the other hand was wary of the woman that had shown herself, the curly hair on his arms standing straight, his mind adopting the state of a gazelle that had found itself in the territory of a lioness. With a signal from Gaddo the man with the scar put away his piece.

"Baby brother now you."

"Lotanna, I am not your brother."

He gave a nod to Malaozi. She reluctantly put the revolver away, a finger running along the initials etched along the custom barrel.

"Duhu why must you be like this."

Hidden behind the veil, her lips turned to a pout; her tone that of a hurt 13 year old girl.

"Sister I don't know why you bother with the bastard."

"Hush Gaddo, he is still our fathers son. No matter what he does that cannot change."

"How many times today have I said, don't call me Duhu. I came here to make sure it was him in that coffin so lets get on with it."

Ola walked past his half brother and sister.

"Ungrateful half breed mongrel, no wonder your mother died a wretches death."

Gaddo did not bother to muffle his voice, each biting word clearly heard by those seated in the church. Ola stopped, his eyes looking straight ahead.

"Just cause this mistake managed to slip past the rubber when our father threw his w-h-o-r-e a bone we should call him brother? You must be joking."

A slap echoed within the confines of the church. None of those seated saw who delivered it, Lotanna's hand back by her side within the time it takes to blink. Gaddo held back the urge to rub his stinging cheek. 

"Little brother Gaddo, that is no way to speak to your baby brother."

"I am not your brother."

Ola walked on leaving those parting words behind, reaching the casket under the watchful eyes of everyone in the church. Up close he could see it was no off the rack coffin. Intricate carvings covered the 24 - carat gold plated box. Even in death you still surround yourself with splendor. The priest on the altar began to speak but thought better of it, finally shutting his jaw that had been opened for far too long. Without any ceremony Ola gripped the handle, the feel of sprinkled diamonds poking his rough palm not lost on him as he flipped open the casket. There was nothing inside.

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

Hislordship12:
next update

Yeah. Recently finished my other story 'Bisi- the other woman' so needed some time to decompress. I'll be resuming an average of 3 chapters a week schedule now. Wish me luck

Thanks for caring enough to comment

Good story, but the chapters are just too short

good

Bensoate1:
Good story, but the chapters are just too short

Thank you for the favorable words.

Yeah, true. Sorry about that. Currently doing near 800 words a chapter. Should be returning to a steady 3 chapters per week which is near 2400 words total. I'll look into increasing the word count of each to 1200 and drop to two chapters per week so each chapter is half a length longer. Will that help?

Appreciate the comment

oblaq20:
good

Glad you like it. Thanks for taking the time to comment

[quote author=just2day post=67990702]
that will be great. The story is so captivating Ride on

just2day:
Copyright ⓒ Jon Doe, 2018

Moral right of author has been asserted. All rights reserved. This story may only be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means with prior written permission of the author Jon Doe.

Contact

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

nice story boss. dnt u mind sharibg ur story to my blog www.emperorblog.com.ng

Nice story full of suspense...

emperorblog:



nice story boss. dnt u mind sharibg ur story to my blog www.emperorblog.com.ng

Apologies sir, currently in negotiations with two sites for this story so I cannot currently allow that. Thank you for the interest sir. Will update you if there is any change

Smooth278:
Nice story full of suspense...

Thank you. It's not easy handling suspense that is also still engaging. Your comment tells me i'm kind of on the right track. Appreciate it

In death we remember 'THE SAINT' and not 'THE SINNER' though they be ONE

TANGENT : Thanks to Bensoate1 here's a much lengthier chapter, no idea if i'll be able to keep it up. No one noticed in the last chapter his half sister had 2 different names lol. Anyway it's been corrected.

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 14

There was no change in expression as Ola closed the heavy lid. None could see what he saw, the angles and depth of the coffin providing the perfect cover. Empty. Probably has to do with why Malaozi can't tell me how he really died. A couple candles around the coffin went out from the wind generated by the closing lid. Picking up one with a still flickering flame, he lit the rest. Ola then turned to the priest who still remained at the lectern, watching him like he was a demon written about in revelations. Still in his early twenties and given the unfortunate task of presiding over this affair.

There were very few in the city of Lagos who did not know the man who should be in the coffin Ola still had a hand on. When the church were told the funeral would be held in their cathedral, the Primate wanted nothing to do with it. It was no secret the dealings of Ola's father were far from noble. But, there were very few  that would come out and say it; at least few that could or would remain breathing in Lagos. His first stance was a firm refusal, believing his creator would save him from any metal rain. The religious leaders behind him firmly applauded his decision. The next twenty four hours would test the man's faith and find him wanting. It was then they realized being told was more of a courtesy and not a request. None wanted to take up the mantle to preside over the Requiem Mass of such an infamous character. So began the handing down of responsibility till it reached the most junior of juniors.

Ola was surprised at how young the priest was.

"What's your name?"

"Ehmmmm, Ore."

"Alright then Ore, get on with it. You've got ten minutes to wrap this up."

Ore was speechless, the pages of the bible he held unable to keep still as he sought strength from the words within. Failing, he turned to the seniors behind him hoping for direction but they all refused to meet or acknowledge his pleading looks. Desperate he looked out to Gaddo and Lotanna who remained in the aisle.

"You aren't the boss of this show Duhu! Priest I want you to end this in seven minutes!"

Gaddo's words were like hundred pound weights being thrust unto an already drowning man. Ore's mind was filled with images of flight, his body turning ever so slightly towards the hidden doors meant for the leaders of the church. With a pounding heart he wished he had at least fought a bit in his attempt to refuse this task. His junior status had given him no such luxury, sealing his fate with but a few words. With easily heard stutters he skipped to the end.

"The the the virtuous man, though... though... though he die before his time... will will find..."

Ola cut him off.

"Nothing virtuous about this man priest, find another passage."

"He has... sought to to to please... God, so God has loved him... as as he was..."

"Come on priest, the only deity the man wished to please was almighty power. Try again."

Ore began to sweat, his lips now quivering as he searched while subconsciously keeping track of how much time had gone by.

"Ah, would that that... that these words words words... of mine were written down, inscribed on... some... some monument with... iron chisel and engraving tool,..."

He stopped, looking at Ola, his finger shakily keeping place on the bible. The people watching wanting to laugh but a glance at the four still standing in the aisle knocking that urge dead.

"Don't stop on my account, I particularly like this one."

Color crept back into the pale face of Ore when he heard Ola's words. Facing the bible once again he continued reading, his voice losing the stutter, growing in strength with each passing word as he lost himself in them.

" cut cut cut... into the rock... for... for ever. This... I know: that my Avenger lives, and he, the last, will take his stand on earth. After my awaking, he will set me close to him, and from my flesh I shall look on God. He whom I shall see will take my part: these eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof."

A sigh of relief escaped the priest's lips as he finished the passage, the pressure on his mind causing him to completely forget there was more to the funeral mass.

"Well done. Don't think you have time for the Eucharist or the special prayers. You might want to just skip on to the drowning of this corpse carrier in water and smoke. That Gaddo is an idiot but quite ruthless. If you don't make it, by the time he's done with you, there will be nothing left for me to play with."

If the priest had not been properly motivated before, he was now. On shaky legs he made his way to the coffin, sprinkling holy water and running incense over it in record time. Without trying to hide it, he kept well away from Ola while he performed the rites, scampering back to the pulpit like a chicken running to a Muslim home on Christmas.

Ola climbed up to the sanctuary and occupied the cathedra. The authority of the church around him had incredulous looks on their faces but none said a word. Within seven minutes the coffin began making it's way out the door, his half brother and sister right behind along with those who attended. The church leaders seated on the platform had scurried off through their special door.

Ore wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, careful not to allow any fall on the bible. As soon as the last of those who came to attend the funeral passed through the now single standing church door he fled the lectern as fast as his church robes would allow, disappearing around the corner.

Ola watched him, a little amused but impressed the young priest had been able to resist the temptation to flee until the end.

"What now?... sir"

Though she had silently snuck up behind him, Malaozi noted how he seemed to have been aware of her presence.

"When was your last confession?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Wait for me here."

"You don't give me orders."

"Aren't you tired of saying that?"

"Aren't you tired of hearing Duhu?"

"Touche. Alright, I order you to follow me."

Getting up, he traced the path of the fleeing priest; not bothering to look back at what expression Malaozi's face was currently exhibiting but half expecting to feel a bullet punching through his back. In a secluded corner of the church were two ornately carved wooden doors. Ola stood in front of them, memory of the first time he had walked through such a door popping up unbidden.

What he had thought would be a clean operation had turned into a complete mess. Being tall for a child didn't mean he could easily reach the top of a full sized gas stove, creating their first hurdle. A wobbly stool had solved that little problem, though concentration was needed to keep it from keeling over. Next had been the challenge of tracking mothers movements. A smart but absent minded friend had been given that task to perform. If he had been smarter at the time, he would have realized the folly of such an assignment. Regardless, the possible payoff had made any risk worth it; or so they thought. Lifting the lid off the pot, little Ola's eyes grew wide as he saw the mouth watering pieces of meat bobbing up and down within a sea of palm oil stew. Their plan had been to liberate two pieces but greed came over him. His mind got distracted with thoughts of how to obtain them all; a fatal mistake during a heist. He crashed to the floor along with the pot of stew, pieces of meat airborne but lacking the wings to remain so. Mother had not been amused, the trip to the church for his first confession following soon after. Gingerly he had sat, his butt tender as he silently cursed the stool.

With a sigh Ola ran fingers through his hair, loosening knots before stepping into one of the doors. Within, he could hear quiet sobs as he made the sign of the cross. They came to an abrupt stop when they heard Ola's words.

"Father forgive me for I am about to sin... a lot."

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

just2day:


Apologies sir, currently in negotiations with two sites for this story so I cannot currently allow that. Thank you for the interest sir.

ok

Nice story. more update please. am really enjoying it.

Dread in my heart. Fear in my bones. Don't know what to do. Maybe i'll pray for a glimmer of hope

THE STORY SO FAR : DRAGGED FROM THE QUIET VILLAGE IN OSUN STATE, OLA SURVIVES AN AMBUSH WITH THE HELP OF HIS UNWILLING BODYGUARD AND DRIVER MALAOZI, RACES TO THE CHURCH OF SAINTS IN MARINA LAGOS TO ATTEND THE FUNERAL OF OLA'S FATHER. OVERCOMING HURDLES (TRAFFIC, POLICE, SECURITY...) OLA MAKES IT TO THE CASKET OF HIS FATHER ONLY TO FIND IT EMPTY. NOW HE SITS WITHIN A CONFESSION BOX, A SOBBING PRIEST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DIVIDE.

TANGENT : Here's a really long chapter to make up for last week, if anyone still bothering with this story. I'll keep posting so long as there's even just one reader. Thanks

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 15

The soothing dimness within the confession box did not bring to Ore the usual comfort he had grown accustomed to. Signs of moisture could be seen on his priestly robes, his face still carrying track lines leading to their source. With effort he muffled his sobs. Sadly this was not the first time these lifeless wooden walls would hear his cry. It had become his sanctuary within the oppressive walls rising high around him. The box had been soundproofed years ago, confessions being between a man, his maker and his priest. A sacred trust spanning centuries, seemingly unbroken. He struggled to silence his weeping, a little voice whispering to him he was never truly alone. There weren't many parishioners who stepped within the confines of the box these days, a detail Ore was thankful for. Till date he had been spared the ordeal of being discovered, luck which was coming to an end.

Cathedral Church of Saints had not been the sanctuary Ore had hoped for, a harsh truth he struggled to come to terms with. When he had gotten his posting here, there had been a glimmer of hope in his heart it would be different from the seminary. How sorely he had been mistaken. Life dropping him into the clutches of the oppressive was nothing new to Ore. In search of solace his thoughts were swept into the past

Born premature, he had spent his childhood as the smallest among his peers. Children can be cruel and Ore always managed to find himself among the worst of the litter. Being pint sized should not have been enough to make him the constant target of their mean spirited play and it wasn't. What sealed his fate was his luck, brilliance and stunning features. The Creator had given him too much. Ore could not understand it at first. He only began to get an inkling when he had transferred to a new school in primary three. The first day had began with signs pointing to hopeful. No one knew him here. It was a new start. The class walls were covered with brightly colored drawings and projects. Most of the drawings seemed to be of the teacher currently standing beside him but Ore didn't give it too much thought. Introducing himself had not gone well, the intense gazes from everyone having a compounding effect, causing him to forget his name. Luckily he was rescued by his teacher.

"This is Ore, he will be your classmate from now on, make sure you take care of him."

When she addressed the class, her voice had the sharpness and no nonsense attitude of a danfo conductor asking for his money from passengers. Turning to Ore she pinched his cheeks.

"Soo cute... You can sit anywhere you like."

"Thank you miss Ihuoma. You are very pretty like my mom."

She was and she knew it. A life of being told how beautiful she was had numbed her to the praise. Male teachers in the school had a nickname for her that she was not aware of but she would have to be a corpse to not notice their gazes and advances. Ihuoma was surprised at the giggle that escaped her lips and the blush creeping up her cheeks from the words of this little child. Confused at the reaction of her body, she gave Ore a gentle push and went to her desk so she could focus on composing herself. Ore stepped on unsteady feet. Afraid to look at the faces of his classmates, he stared at the floor while he walked; making his search for an empty seat more difficult than it should be. It was a good thing he kept his head down or he would have seen some ugly stares directed at him.

It had not gone unnoticed by the class that miss Ihuoma had used a sweet voice when she talked to Ore. They only heard that tone when she was on the phone. Who she was talking to at those times, the children did not know. Unlike other teachers, miss Ihuoma did not have any favorites in her class. It was not enough to stop her students from trying, especially the boys. A fierce war was waged, their weapons being helpfulness, thoughtfulness and 'parent bought' gifts. Alas, their efforts bore no fruit; but since there was no chosen one, her class remained the only in the school that did not have to deal with jealousy or tyranny within its ranks. Ore's existence was an open candle held to turn on a petrol generator. It set this fragile ecosystem ablaze.

The first leg that tripped Ore was written off as the fault of his clumsy nature. He quickly apologized as he moved on. The next leg nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. Still, Ore apologized once again and kept walking eyes glued to the brightly tiled ground. A hand slapped his back, the pain bringing tears to his eyes and a whimper to his lips. He did not dare turn around to identify his tormentor, taking solace in finally reaching the back of the class and finding an empty desk. Dragging his stinging back into it, he hid his face using his arm and the surface of the marked table.

"Put your books away and bring out your pencil for a short quiz."

A groan spread through the class as they complied. A long thin tree branch struck the blackboard swiftly silencing the growing discontent. Everyone could not look away from the cane miss Ihuoma held in her hand. There weren't many who had tasted its sting but for those who did not have such luck, they were not shy when it came to sharing the terrible experience. They had called the cane 'beauty's beast' though they would never say that in front of her.

"Ten questions. Those who score the highest won't be given any strokes. For each point you score lower than the highest you will receive a stroke."

The intelligent among them couldn't help but do the math. A possibility of ten strokes. A shiver went round. Those who were at the top of the class weren't worried. No one got more than a 7 on miss Ihuoma's test and the first two questions were as easy as writing your name. It was a rare sight for even the worst of the students to get more than 4 from the shaped tree branch.

"Don't turn it over until I say start."

Threading her way between the rows, miss Ihuoma distributed the test questions, her cane still in hand giving incentive to all to do their best.

"Ore don't worry since you are new you don't have to take the test."

Every head turned at miss Ihuoma's words, their target a little boy who wished he was a little smaller so he could disappear into his desk. There were a wide range of expressions directed at Ore. For the most part the boys seemed to wish to eat him along with their school lunches in boxes painted with superheros and cartoon characters. Those who did not want to eat him were the girls in the class but they could do nothing but share the pity in their eyes. Sensing the danger in his predicament Ore reached out, managing to grab the skirt of miss Ihuoma.

"I don't mind taking the test."

"Such a brave little boy. Class you should learn to be more like Ore."

Later in life Ore would wonder if his teacher was intentionally trying to get him killed. At that young age he did not have such thoughts. With a smile she handed him the test. Many in the class were excited Ore did not take up the offer to skip. They couldn't wait for the satisfaction of watching the teacher having to tan his hide.

"Don't stress yourself too much, just do your best. We all know it's your first day."

As soon as miss Ihuoma had her back to Ore, an eraser struck him on the head. Through the aisle she sauntered unaware, behind her more erasers flying, most missing their mark but the few that hit passing across their message clearly. Ore could do nothing but hide his head beneath his arms. The rain soon ended, makeshift army running out of ammunition playing a part but more importantly miss Ihuoma now watched the class intently.

"You have fifteen minutes. Start! Raise your hand when you are done"

Everyone forgot their victim for a time as they focused on the paper before them. With the barrage at an end, Ore held back the tears that threatened to fall. It was not easy but somehow he managed. Turning his questions over, he too began.

Ten minutes later a hand rose above the students bent over their desk. Miss Ihuoma looked up surprised. No one ever had enough time to finish any of her test. The last three questions were set up to be above the level the class could handle. Technically getting a 7 out of 10 was an A. The last three questions were merely there to challenge them. Not wanting to disturb the other students she walked over and crouched beside the student.

With her hair so close to him, Ore could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. Its mild sweetness transported him, making him forget for a time the reality around him.

"Are you sure you are done?"

Her voice, matching the sweetness of her shampoo woke him.

"Yes, I am."

"What about proofreading?"

"I have."

"Very good child. You can sit quietly here so the others can finish."

"I will."

"You don't need to bring so many erasers to class. Pick them up while you wait since I've collected your test."

Ihuoma smiled when she noticed the erasers scattered around Ore. She assumed he must be fond of erasers and had spilled them in a nervous fit when he saw the test. Confused, Ore was about to tell her it wasn't his but a small voice whispered to him it wasn't a good idea. He listened, complying as she walked away. Getting out of his seat he quietly picked up the erasers unaware of the rising eyebrow distorting miss Ihuoma's features as she sat at her desk grading his paper .

"Pencils up!"

Fifteen minutes had gone by too quickly for almost everyone in the class. Those who knew their own limited capabilities mentally prepared themselves for the lashes they knew would be unavoidable. As miss Ihuoma went round picking up papers, some smiled with confidence while others looked intensely at their desk. A few pencils were broken in a fit, the thoughts of their owners self evident. A few veterans in the flogged department already began padding their school uniform with cushion.

Gathering all the papers together Ihuoma quickly graded them all, the class watching her nervously, Ore forgotten as they awaited their fate. There weren't many in the class. Done she began publicly reading the names of each student and their score.

"Aliyu 7 over 10. Good job."

In the front a boy beamed brightly. He sat in the most coveted seat, the first desk in the middle of the class facing miss Ihuoma's work table directly. Aliyu was always closest to miss Ihuoma when she sat down. Due to this proximity he was most often called to perform tasks for her. Everyone understood it was due to convenience. He had not always been seating at that highly sought after spot. Desks could be traded within miss Ihuoma's class but both sides had to be in agreement. No one knew what Aliyu had offered to gain that prime real estate but most suspected it had to be substantial. The girl he traded with was currently seated beside Ore.

"Chioma 7 over 10 good, Amaka 7, Chibuzo 7, Bimbo 7, Femi 6..."

Femi was the first to obtain a score that did not match the seven's that had been previously called. His head fell to his hands, memories of how the cane struck the board still fresh in his mind. Those around him who already had their grade announced gazed at their fallen comrade with sympathy, whispering to him it was only one stroke. Those who were waiting for their scores hoped they wouldn't be subjected to the same bleak outlook. Still there were others who looked at him with envy knowing their score would never be seven, hoping they would be as lucky as him to get six.

More names and scores were called out, the lowest being a 4. That was by the classes officially recognized idiot. No one expected anyone to get below the class idiot, though a significant amount hoped Ore would . More than half the class had scored a seven this time around which was quite good. There were already congratulations going round as well as comfort to those who would be experiencing bitterness soon. It was during this period Aliyu noticed there was one name missing. Raising his hand, he didn't wait for her to call him.

"Teacher what about Ore's score?"

It was then the class realized she hadn't called it out. Many of the boys in the class suppressed their delight. For the teacher to try to push his score aside it must have been really bad. A few quietly praised Aliyu for bringing it up.

"Thank you Aliyu, I had forgotten. He finished before all of you so I set his paper aside. Ore got 10 out of 10."

A deadly silence swept through the room. A few thought they heard incorrectly, others assumed she must be joking. A few went as far as thinking miss Ihuoma was cheating. It was the first time anyone had gotten all her questions correct. It was not a well kept secret in the school the difficulty of her tests. The one to receive the most shock was Aliyu who had reminded the teacher.

"That can't be right..."

"Can't be right? Aliyu what are you saying."

"Nothing teacher, I thought I heard you say 11. I'm sorry."

"If it was 11 would you not be receiving 4 strokes. You should be happy it's 10. The boys should come out first."

Only then did the class remember what it truly meant for Ore to get such a score. No one would be escaping the cane today except for one new kid that no one really knew. Everyone burned with emotion, each ones mark the same. There was nowhere for Ore to run. To think his first day would turn out to be so. He had transferred to this school due to unfortunate events in his last but never would he have thought within 24 hours he would be enveloped by a cloud of red and black.

As each boy took his strokes, their eyes traversed the distance to bore fiercely into Ore who sat there with his head buried in his desk in a futile attempt to hide. He was the only boy still sitting down. The few girls around did not view him favorably either as they waited for their turn to be caned. Miss Ijuoma was efficient, her strokes landing with precision, the flick of her wrist willowy and supple, bringing out the most from each swing. Every boy sat down gingerly, thoughts of retribution at the forefront of their minds.

"Girls come out."

There were no gender bias in her class. The girls filed out, some already crying before they had even had a taste of the wood the teacher held. Ore still had his head buried in his desk, afraid to look up. A voice whispered to him to get up and open his mouth. The voice didn't talk to him often but Ore had noticed if he didn't do what it whispered things usually tended to become worse. Gathering together the little courage he had scattered around his spirit, he rose from his chair.

"Teacher."

It was barely audible, but it floated above the tears and whimpers in the class. Surprised to see Ore standing, miss Ihuoma stopped the cane mid swing, the first girl she was to lash almost collapsing even though she had yet to receive the first bite of beauty's beast.

"Yes Ore?"

"Would it be possible not to flog the girls since it's my first day? Or I could take it for them since it is my fault."

Another shock made its round, the class in disbelief at this little boys request. Though there weren't as many girls in the class as boys, this would easily mean at least 15 lashes. Bravery or stupidity they couldn't quite be sure.

"What a gentleman, you'll make a girl lucky one day. Girls say thank you to Ore and go back to your seats."

"Thank you Ore!"

The gratitude shining in their eyes could not be faked as their words echoed in the class room. Ore barely remembered the looks the girls gave him, what was forever stamped in his mind was the dagger stares the boys leveled on him. So began again the hell he thought he had escaped.

Within the sacred box, through the tears, Ore's mind had returned unbidden to the past. There it remained, flipping the pages till words floated through the iron grate that was the passage connecting sinner and priest, dragging him from the annals of his past.

"Father forgive me for I am about to sin... a lot."

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

oluangelkay:
Nice story. more update please. am really enjoying it.

Thanks for the favorable comment. I guess i really took my time with the update. Hope you continue to enjoy it

Nice one,thanks, you are good

Awesome!!! Been following your story silently for a while now,i have to say ure very good @ what you do & your updates never fails to make my day. Thanks for sharing a part of your mind with us.